Basic Instincts, Chosen Hearts series, Futuristic
by HDorothy
Summary: O’Neill’s formula for a successful marriage: Pick up a strange, beautiful woman and know when not to say, “Crap!”


Title: Basic Instinct - Chosen Hearts Series - Futuristic

Author: HailDorothy aka HDorothy

Warning: Usual SG-1 language, sexual content, romance, humor.

Pairing: S/O J/O S/J Take your pick and get your mind out of the gutter.

Season: Who knows, about five years after Season 9 or 10.

Spoilers: Limited to your imagination

Rating: T

Story Summary: O'Neill's formula for a successful marriage: Picking up strange beautiful women and knowing when not to say, "Crap!"

Archive: Jackfic, GateWorld, Heliopolis, SamandJack, Fan Fiction. My site, just ask.

File Size: 80KB

**Author's note: I do not write sexually explicit fiction, nor endorse fornication or adultery. However, I do believe that what goes on between consenting spouses beneath the sheets is only limited to their imagination. God never intended sex solely for procreation but also as a physical expression of love between Chosen Hearts. **

My special appreciation: to my lover and husband, who has managed to keep our mutual passion burning out of control for over 30+ years. 

**Beta thanks to Carol Sue. You know me too well.**

**Praise and glory to The Keeper Of The Stars Who forever amazes me!**

Series Summary: This is an established storyline in which Jack and Sam fell in love during Jack's retirement. When Jack is re-commissioned and Sam inadvertently assigned his subordinate, they pretend to be strangers and put their wannabe lovers relationship on hold. Little do they realize it will not be a matter of months, but years, before they will follow through on the desire of their hearts.

Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. I have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters and situations of this story are the property of said author, HailDorothy 05/29/04

Feedback: Gosh, darn, don't make me beg! Pretty Please? Starvation of this writer's muse is no pleasant sight. All feedback is food for thought and well digested. "Feed me, Seymour!" (The Little Shop of Horrors)

_**DEDICATED TO: Wives, husbands, moms and dads, who go the extra distance to maintain the romance in their marriage and keep those basic instincts of mutual attraction, simmering beneath the surface. **_

**_Basic _i_nstinct. _**

I can't help but stare.

The instant he strolls through the door of the Bar, I notice the handsome rugged biker from the shadows of my corner booth. He's wearing tight, black, leather pants beneath a leather jacket that he unzips and then tosses over his shoulder. The casual action reveals a snug white t-shirt emphasizing his dark tan and defined muscular biceps. Broad shouldered and lean of waist he's in top form, making it difficult to discern his age. The unruly shock of short silver hair is the only evidence that he's possibly over forty. Which makes it more intriguing as several of the ogling females are barely out of junior high, well, college perhaps. Definite jailbait, were he to give them serious attention. Meanwhile, he smirks at them before his dark brown gaze lazily drifts to where I'm sitting. I tense, wondering if he sees me, but with the smoky lighting, I assume not. Still, he peers a bit longer, before looking away.

The gray wolf appears familiar with the tavern and its patrons as he exchanges niceties with the bartender and two men taking up stool space. At least six feet two, he appears taller in his riding boots. He orders up a beer. Perching against the bar, his legs outstretched, he takes a swig and then dangles the bottleneck between two refined fingers while he surveys the action at the pool table, then the rest of the joint. He reminds me of a male lion checking out his pride, deciding which one will warm his bed tonight. My mouth waters at the prospect.

_Basic instinct. _

He's the best-looking man I've ever set eyes on, so I continue to watch and nurse my glass of Merlot. A woman ten plus years my junior decides to hit on him. She's outright gorgeous. Leggy. Blonde. Fair complexioned. Unfortunately her assets bulge over her booster bra and her mini skirt barely covers her crotch. He looks her over like a piece of prime steak. There's no doubt what part of his anatomy he's thinking with and it makes me hot.

My heart hitches in my throat as she leans into him, no doubt whispering something off colored. The furrow between his brows deepens and his eyebrows shift into his gray hairline. His lips curl upward as his warm rich laughter carries across the noisy barroom and sends a shiver through me.

"Thanks for the offer, gorgeous, but that's so wrong on oh so many levels."

She appears hurt by his rejection. He whispers something obviously not insulting, but enough that she shrugs and returns to her young friends. The hunk is either very particular or not available. I think what the hay. I'm alone and could really get into having a piece of him. Why not? More importantly, I'm wiser in the ways of men and how to play the game.

_Basic instinct._

Standing, I smooth the snug lines of my hip hugger jeans, making sure my bellybutton shows. I glance at my firm tanned stomach. Considering all it's been through the past few years, not bad at all, I muse. I adjust the spaghetti straps of my red tank top to reveal just enough cleavage. I instinctively know his type doesn't like unwrapped merchandise. Nope, he likes to be surprised.

I snatch up my leather jacket and saunter to the bar, ignoring him. I feel his dark sensual gaze and my heart slams into my ribs. Breathe girl!

The bartender is talking to him. I tap my manicured nails on the counter for service. The bartender nods my way and limps over. "Ya got an admirer, Blondie." He motions in the stranger's direction. "Wants ta buy ya a drink."

I turn and meet his seductive boyish smile as he lifts his beer and winks. I nod, smile and look away. Man, he's hitting on me! Excellent!

"So?" the bartender asks impatiently.

"Give me what he's having."

"Sure." He plops a cold one in front of me as the biker saunters over. I turn and brazenly stare at him. His dark brown gaze is lustfully bold as he takes inventory of my packaging. Slowly, suggestively his rutting look undresses me. A delicious heat spirals through my body, locks and holds in my nether region. My breasts ache. There's no time to rationalize, it's outright animal lust.

I want him.

He wants me.

_Basic instinct._

He secures a large possessive hand about my waist and pulls me against him, making sure I feel his lean hardness. My breath hitches. The patrons are staring, especially the women. I suspect their jaws have connected with their knees. Wow! His free hand travels down my back and grabs my derriere as he presses against me.

"Let's go, Babe," he insists in a throaty voice of raw masculinity, "Now!"

I barely manage to nod before his mouth captures mine and his tongue flicks teasingly over my lower lip. Whoa! I like what I taste.

He tosses a ten spot on the bar and we leave, his arm locked firmly around me as his thumb dips beneath the back of my jeans and tugs the lace of my thong. I gulp. By the time we get to his black Harley we are groping like teenagers. He's rough then gentle, touching, stroking, kissing and then easing off so I can catch my breath. He's an experienced lover. He reads minds too.

"You want it here or in bed?"

Double wow! I want him to take me behind the Bar, but a police car enters the parking lot and I relent to the bed offer. He starts his Harley and I mount behind him, securing my hands around his waist. Within seconds we're racing down the winding highway and into a suburban neighborhood, while I make certain he stays ready for the main course. Despite the noise of his bike and the wind roaring passed me, I hear and feel his guttural groan when I yank his t-shirt free, and caress his taut six-pack. The gray wolf works out and the vision of his hot sweaty body performing crunches makes me even dizzier with desire.

_Basic instinct. _

A few minutes later we pull into the driveway of an upper middleclass neighborhood. He carries me to the rear of the house, up a set of outside stairs to a deck and through French doors into a large, second floor bedroom. I'm in a fervor driven haze as we fumble our way to the bed, zippers zipping, boots flying, buttons popping, my tank top ripping. There's no gentle foreplay. This is strictly primal. I think of the movie, 'Basic Instincts.' It doesn't get any more basic than this!

A moment later, he drags off my thong with his teeth, then stares, his voice a rough whisper, "Geez, you're a real fricking blond!"

Sure am! Before I can speak he kisses me again. Like I'd no idea a tongue could do that! Man, I've never been more turned on in my life. Coming up for air I try to speak but he clamps a hand over my mouth.

"Shut up!" he orders in a harsh voice that reminds me of some GI Joe cartoon character. He's Alpha male and authoritative. I like it. I rarely give up control to anyone, but I will tonight. To him. My tongue flicks across the salty leather of his palm and I shudder.

_Basic instinct._

He takes me with such force I see stars. He's rough and demanding and I'm so close to the edge, so close to—

"Mommy, JJ peed his diaper," a little girl's voice whines over the crib monitor.

"Pee pee!" a toddler calls out, "Da Da!"

Huh! Shocked, my eyes fly open.

"Oh for crying out loud!" My lover lifts his flushed face from where he'd been giving me a love bite. He shakes his silver head and then grins, dimples slashing deep into his tanned seasoned face. "Umm, happy anniversary, Mrs. Jonathon O'Neill."

I gape. He left our kids alone while we played fantasy sex seven miles away!

"Jack!"

"Whaat?"

"What happened to Cassandra taking them for the night?" A mother's anger has replaced basic lust for her husband.

"Um, well, right after you left, she got called into work and —,"

"Grace O'Neill, you are not to disturb your parents tonight. I will attend Jonathan's wetting accident," crackles over the crib monitor.

"'Kay, Uncle T, but I think he crapped too."

"Grace O'Neill, that is not the proper speech to use for a bowel movement."

"But Daddy does or tells Mom, 'Sam, our boy took a dump again.'"

"Teal'c!" I gawk into my lover's mischievous expression and angrily shove him off me.

"Hey! Hey!" Jack holds up a hand as he rolls on his side. "Daniel was my second choice, but he's off world. Besides, T's great with the kids."

"That's not the point." I pout. "I had plans for us tonight and tomorrow morning, including breakfast in bed . . .meaning you, Jack."

"I know. But we'll start with tonight and worry about tomorrow, well . . .tomorrow." He reclaims his strong foothold on top of me and explains between nibbles, "Geez, I love you, Samantha Jean O'Neill. You drive me nuts, ya know that?"

"Ditto." I'm no longer feeling romantic, let alone lustful. Basic motherhood instinct tends to override other base instincts. Especially when you think you have one free night to be a nymphomaniac with your lover, only to learn your firstborn is in the next room . . . awake and your toddler has a dirty diaper. Oh, yeah, happy anniversary, Sam!

My lack of response to his creative caresses makes Jack grunt out his frustration, "Look, Sam, I gave T the guestroom and the entire, 'Star Wars,' DVD's collection for the night." His tongue dives into my right ear.

I shudder with . . .

_Basic instinct. _

"Besides, the worst case scenario is that Gracie talks him into letting her eat your Godiva chocolate and flushes it down with a six pack of Mountain Dew." He snuffs a breath and returns to seducing me.

The thought of such a lethal overdose in our hyper four-year-old daughter unhinges me. "Jack!" I yank his chest hairs.

"Ow!" He flinches. "Just kidding."

"Well if Grace gets a caffeine rush, you're dealing with her!"

Atypical Jack O'Neill snickers, because we know he'll deal better with Grace getting buzzed than I will. The most obstinate, insolent USAF Major General and former CO of the SGC, has the patience of a saint with domestic issues, kids, and dogs.

"That aside we're not alone and—."

"Stand down, Colonel!" Reaching across the bed, he yanks the monitor's cord out of the wall and turns back to me, his eyes roving my body with primal intent. "There! Now we're alone! We built this second floor for a reason, woman. Privacy! The master door's locked and this is our fifth wedding anniversary. Fulfilling your fantasy got me so turned on, I almost took you on that Bar's countertop!" He growls as his magic tongue and talented fingers go to work again.

"Really?" I try to picture my emotionally repressed husband doing something that outrageous and then shudder. Yeah, after all the risk-taking he's done over the years, he's telling the truth. That disclosure combined with his hot familiar touch refuels my fire.

I shiver and arch into him caressing his secret hot spots.

"Yeah, that's it, Babe!" He nuzzles my earlobe while his calloused hands travel southward. "And now it's time for my fantasy," his voice rumbles in my ear.

_Basic instinct. _

"It is?" I sigh as he flips me over, drags me to the edge of our king size bed and down onto our thick carpeted floor. I giggle at the lecherous glint in his chocolate eyes. His left dimple tucks deep into his blue shadowed cheek as he shines his devil may care look. A look that has been solely mine since that first day we met. Man, oh, man I love Jack O'Neill!

"Yeah, all those years working with you off world, I'd fantasize about us making love while Daniel and Teal'c were in their tents nearby –. So tonight, I'll settle for one out of two."

"Hey, when we worked together we never broke the regs, well at least that one." I grin.

"Got that right, Carter."

"So I'm your 2IC, sir?"

"Yeah sure youbetcha. And tonight, I'm ordering you to break the regs, Major!"

"Okay, but I'm a squealer, Colonel sir."

"Know that, Carter." He winks. "That's why we have extra insulation in the floors and walls. But if you insist, I could find something around here to shut you up with?" He nudges me.

"Excellent!" I mimic, wiggling beneath him as my nails track down his back and claim his muscle taut butt.

_Basic instinct._

"Oy!" Sliding on top of me he starts making up for lost time.

"Umm, sir?" The nagging mother's instinct overrides basic desires. Again.

"Wha—at?"

"You did lock the patio door?"

"Yep." His lips trace a hot, wet path and —

"Teal'c's right, you know. You've got to stop swearing around Grace, she's very impressive now."

"Fine. Fine!" He rolls his gorgeous brown eyes at me. "So you want I call our son's messy diapers, Goa'uld pee-u bombs?"

"Well it's better than c—"

"Daddy, why ya bouncing on Mommy? Mommy, should I kick Daddy's butt? Can I play too?"

Stunned, we gaze at the deck's open French door and the brown haired, blue-eyed girl wearing Wonder Woman pajamas and holding her GI Joe dolls. I'm speechless. But my lover, husband, father of my children, and former CO, says it best—

"Crap!"

Because for him it's just—

_Basic instinct!_

**Fin**

Dear faithful readers:

This fic was not the end. There are many more WIP (works in progress) covering Jack and Sam's first 8-10+ years with SG-1 and other stories that will fall between **Forever And For Always** and the finale of the Chosen Hearts series. **Basic Instincts **is just one of many futuristic stories in the Chosen Hearts series. Also watch for my opening S9 Fic of the Chosen Hearts series which is presently unnamed.

Oh, and look for, **Never Say Never** a futuristic action packed adventure, and of course, romance novel set twelve years down the road that reunites SG-1 to save Earth and the galaxy one last time!

Yeah, Jack's back and ready to kick Nirrti and Kinsey's Goa'uld resurrected asses, not to mention Tanith's! Coz, no one, messes with Jack and Sam's kids! Oy!

There's more. . .

Fifth's so not dead and still obsessed with Sam. The Wraith and Replicators contest for universal supremacy leaves Earth devastated and existing without twenty-first century technology? For cryin' outloud, will Jack and Sam ever lead normal, boring suburban lives? Not if I can help it. VBG

Jack hugs,

HailDorothy aka HDorothy


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